


The Man in the Tower

by rosewindow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Bluebeard, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Rapunzel, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac was old enough to know, logically, that happily ever after was something that only happened in stories. But he still held out a kind of hope for the grand adventures and romances of literature.<br/>Which was how he found himself in a far distant land, staring up at a tower with no door and only one window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in the Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EboniOrchid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EboniOrchid/gifts).



> Written for eboniorchid for the FandomAid Typhoon Haiyan Buy it Now Fundraiser. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Notes on the 'abuse' and 'mildly dubious consent' tags can be found at the end.

Isaac was old enough to know, logically, that happily ever after was something that only happened in stories. His parents’ marriage had been arranged, and his brother had been betrothed since before he could talk. Negotiations were ongoing for Isaac’s wife - as the second son, it was less urgent for him to be paired off. But he still held out a kind of hope for the grand adventures and romances of literature.

Which was how he found himself in a far distant land, staring up at a tower with no door and only one window.

\---

“Your brother’s off in the wars; there’s no reason for you to vanish too.”

“I need to make a name for myself, Father,” Isaac insisted from a careful position halfway across the throne room.

His father, the King, scoffed. “It’s all nonsense, boy. The only thing you need to do is keep your head down and keep out of your brother’s and my way.”

But Isaac wanted more, so he packed his things, and took his favorite horse, and left in search of adventure.

\---

There was a person in the tower, Isaac could tell. They didn’t move much - mostly sitting in a chair by the window - but occasionally their shadow would pass in front of the light. He could never see how they came and went, but two men visited every few days. Isaac wasn’t able to get a good look at either of them.

After about a week, the day after the men’s visit, Isaac approached the tower.

“Hello!” he called.

The figure in the window started. “Hello?”

“My name’s Prince Isaac, of the Family Lahey. Who are you and why are you imprisoned here?”

They leaned out of the window and Isaac realized it was a man perhaps a score of years older than him. “My name is Peter,” he said. “I’m falsely accused of murder.”

Isaac hesitated. In his understanding, people in towers were generally beautiful young maidens trapped by witches, and while Peter was beautiful, none of the rest of it fit the pattern.

“I was imprisoned by a magician,” Peter added.

Well that made more sense, Isaac though. Everyone knew magicians couldn’t be trusted and were always locking people up for imagined slights.

“How do I get you out?” Isaac asked.

“The next time my captors visit, hide in that thicket and study their actions. They have a secret way to get in and out. Follow it exactly and you can free me.”

“Of course. Never fear; I’ll rescue you.”

Feeling good about things, Isaac retired to his camp nearby.

His next few days were occupied with long talks with Peter. The man was quite brilliant and could converse about every topic. Isaac’s education hadn’t been lacking, but he often felt like Peter was teaching him so much more than he had learned from his tutors. Peter refused to say what family he was from, but Isaac was sure that he must have been from one of the noble families, such was his knowledge and bearing. Despite the difference in their ages, Isaac felt like he had finally found a confidant and a trusted friend.

When the captors returned, Isaac hid in the copse of brambles that afforded him both cover and a clear view of the proceedings. It was the skinnier man this time. His visits were always shorter and he acted unhappier about being there; Isaac believed that he was the magician’s apprentice.

He rapped twice on a patch of plaster at the base of the tower and a walkway began to spiral upwards. Isaac watched in fascination as it vanished behind the ascending man. He stepped lightly through the window and the walkway vanished entirely; leaving both men stuck at the top. Well that was tricky. When the man left, he whistled a little tune and the walkway reappeared, again vanishing behind him leaving Peter alone once more.

Isaac waited an hour for him to get safely away before he approached Peter’s prison. He copied the steps exactly, and after a brief, harrowing climb stepped into Peter’s cell.

The round, open space was subdivided by bookshelves, each one crammed with tomes and scrolls and thin volumes. There was a curtained bed in the corner, and a plush chair by the fireplace. It was there that Peter was waiting.

He smiled at Isaac. “You came.”

“Of course I did. I said I would rescue you, and here I am. Gather what things you’ll need; we should leave as quickly as possible.”

Isaac was packing up the last of Peter’s things when they heard a grinding noise outside.

“The walkway,” Peter realized too late.

Before either of them could move, the man Isaac was sure was the magician stepped into the room.

“Stiles forgot to bring-” he started, before he froze. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Isaac had prepared an entire, grand speech for if he ever met either of the jailers, and he opened his mouth to deliver it, but before he could start, Peter slammed a frying pan into the man’s head and shouted at Isaac to go.

Isaac snatched up the bags and whistled the tune to get them down. Peter stepped out and paused, breathing in the air. Isaac was about to pull himself out the window, when he heard a groan.

The man was waking up.

His eyes blearily focussed on Isaac and he croaked, “Don’t trust him.”

But Peter was shouting and the walkway was vanishing and so Isaac followed after.

\---

At first they just rode to get away. Peter had stolen the magician’s horse and they travelled quickly. But then Peter started to guide them, taking decisive turns and heading towards the coast. They soon arrived at what Peter said was his family’s old summer palace.

“It won’t be occupied?” Isaac asked as they approached the sprawling, Baroque house.

“Just the servants, and maybe a gardener or two,” Peter said dismissively. “It’ll be a safe haven for us.”

He was right. They spent all day in long conversation in the library or the gardens or the study and invisible servants tended to their every need. It was the most peaceful time of Isaac’s life. He almost didn’t notice when he and Peter slipped from comrades to lovers.

It started slowly; a brush of a hand here, a lingering look there. One evening they were leaving the gardens to head in for supper, when Peter leaned into him and kissed him thoroughly.

Isaac wasn’t sure how to respond at first. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, he just hadn’t even considered it. Peter didn’t give him much time to think, instead pressing closer until Isaac opened under him. As soon as Isaac started kissing back, Peter pulled away, his cheeks coloring.

“I’m sorry, I just- you rescued me and I’m so grateful. I feel as if I owe you.”

“No, no!” Isaac insisted. “Of course you don’t. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Thank you,” Peter said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Isaac let Peter initiate all stages of their relationship. It wouldn’t do to take advantage of the situation, so Peter was the first to kiss him, and the first to slip a hand into his trousers, and the first to tumble them into bed. Soon they were spending every night wrapped in each other’s arms.

One night in bed, Peter pressed a kiss to the back of Isaac’s neck and murmured, “I have something I need to do, and unfortunately it requires that I go away for a while.”

“And leave me alone?”

“You’ll have the servants, and the library. It won’t be for long, I promise, my darling.”

Isaac tried to twist in Peter’s arms so they were facing, but Peter held him tighter until Isaac slipped back into sleep.

\---

Peter was gone when Isaac woke up the next morning. There was a note waiting for him at breakfast, along with a ring of keys. The note was full of profuse apologies and proclamations of love, but also an admonishment to keep out of the West Wing and not to use the smallest key on the ring. Isaac put the keys carefully in his dressing table, and went about his business as usual, though a little melancholy at the loss of his lover.

However, two weeks soon passed in a surprising haze of happiness. Isaac spent most of his time in the gardens with the groundskeeper and her husband. Erica and Boyd were refreshing after a life spent surrounded by stiff courtiers. He was reflecting more and more on that life, and finding it hard to see anything of merit in it. Even this seemingly idyllic life with Peter was beginning to chafe. He’d left home to find a place in the world, not to be trapped again by a man like his father. He resolved to take action; he would leave Peter’s house at dawn the next day, but first, he needed to find out what the man was hiding.

He took the key ring and pushed through the doors to the West Wing. The halls were large and echoing, and Isaac felt absolutely dwarfed by them. There was a small door at the back of the house, and the littlest key fit perfectly. The hinges creaked as they swung open, like they hadn’t moved in a decade. It was gloomy inside; it took Isaac’s eyes a moment to adjust. He wished they hadn’t.

The tangle of bodies was bad, but the empty, staring eyes were worse. Isaac locked eyes with the body on the top of the pile. The pale hazel gaze was somewhat filmed over, but the echo of life lingered in them.

Isaac staggered back in shock, dropping the keys. He had to leave; he had to get out of this place. He fled to the stables and took his horse. He wasn’t sure where he would go, just away.

He was several miles from the house when he remembered Erica and Boyd. He wavered for a moment, considering going back, but the decision was taken from him by the appearance of an approaching rider.

The horse coming towards him at a steady trot was uncomfortably familiar. Peter’s blood bay stallion was bearing down on him, and Isaac had nowhere to go.

“Hello my love!” Peter called. “Come to greet me?”

Isaac froze, his heart pounding.

The smile slipped off Peter’s face and was then replaced by a terrible sneer. “So. You disobeyed me. Did you use the key too, or are you just an ungrateful little boy?”

Isaac jerked his hands and spurred his horse onwards, trying to evade Peter, but he wasn’t fast enough. Peter’s horse moved quickly, and his hand snapped out, catching Isaac’s reins. His horse wheeled, whinnying nervously. Peter stood up in his stirrups and leaned into Isaac’s space.

“You’re mine. You’re coming back with me.”

“I don’t think so!” called an unfamiliar voice.

The magician and his apprentice from the tower were coming at them fast. Isaac used Peter’s moment of distraction to pull loose. He started to flee, but halted at the edge of the clearing. Peter’s former captors had pulled out swords and were attacking him furiously. Even against two opponents, Peter was a formidable fighter. Isaac wasn’t entirely sure about the two magicians, but right now he was going to go with the philosophy that the enemy of his enemy was his friend. He wheeled around and headed back into the fray.

In his haste to leave, he’d forgotten his sword, but he had one knife in his boot and one on his saddle. All his life he’d been training in combat, but this was his first real experience with it. It was - chaotic mostly.

Despite the best efforts of the three of them, they could only beat Peter to a standstill, never making any progress beyond that. Isaac noticed the men exchanging a look, and when one of them pulled back out of the fight, Isaac had a flash of panic that they were going to leave. But the man merely retreated a ways and got a bottle out of his bag. Isaac was confused until the man hurled it at Peter and he realized it must be magic. Peter raised his sword at the last minute and the bottle pinwheeled off course and exploded in a shower of gold sparks on the grass.

Peter laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that, boys. Still having Lydia fight your battles for you, eh Scott? You and Stiles could never have caught me without her help, let alone held me for so long. And Isaac, I thought you wanted to be a warrior. A great hero? Ha!”

He started advancing on Isaac, sword at his side for now, and their eyes locked together. “I protected you. I gave you everything. Was it not enough for you?”  
Thinking him distracted, Scott swung his sword. Peter blocked it easily, snarling. The other one - Stiles - pulled another bottle out of his bag. He moved too quickly though, and the bottle slipped out of his hand. Isaac lunged for it, nearly slipping out of his saddle, but he caught it.

When he was upright again, the fight had continued, and Peter was distracted as both men were attacking him with all they had. Isaac hefted the bottle and launched it at Peter’s back. Time seemed to slow down as the bottle tumbled through the air, end over end, before smashing in a spray of glass and liquid. Instead of briefly expanding and then falling to the ground, the liquid blossomed out and swallowed Peter entirely in a gold and red case like a jewel.

There was silence in the clearing as they all absorbed what had happened. Peter was entirely encased in the magical amber, frozen in a dramatic pose and his horse was shifting uncomfortably under him.

“Thank you,” said Scott, shaking his hand.

“I- I had to. He killed all those people.”

“The Hale Family. His parents and siblings, all his nieces and nephews,” said Stiles softly.

“His own-” Isaac started with a gasp.

“Later,” said Scott, laying a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “We should find some shelter and get him somewhere safe.”

“I guess- I mean his house isn’t far away.”

Stiles grabbed Peter’s reins and their strange procession headed back to Peter’s palace.

\---

It took a while for things to settle into place. Lydia, the actual magician, came to fetch Peter, and Stiles returned with her. Scott stayed for a few more days as Isaac, Erica, and Boyd figured out the running of the house and grounds. Because of Peter’s prolonged absence it wasn’t too difficult, and Isaac all of a sudden found himself master of a large estate. It wasn’t the adventure he’d been planning on, but, Isaac thought, as he stood on the terrace, he was quite happy with how things had turned out.

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely drew on the darker elements of these fairy tales for this story, including all the killing in Bluebeard. The abuse is more hinted at than described (Isaac and his father) and there is some emotional manipulation and thus questionable consent in regards to Isaac and Peter's relationship. If I need to warn or tag for anything else, please let me know.


End file.
